


Nostalgia

by MyDearStalker



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Language Kink, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-16
Updated: 2015-03-16
Packaged: 2018-03-18 04:01:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3555308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyDearStalker/pseuds/MyDearStalker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will fingers Hannibal until he loses his grip on the english language.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nostalgia

**Author's Note:**

> I am so, so sorry for my butchering of Lithuanian.

He pounced on him before he could unfurl his scarf. Will was shirtless, almost panting with need, hands snaking around his hips, hot mouth suckling at his neck. Hannibal tilted his head, let Will’s tongue play near his ear, felt his teeth nip at the skin. The doctor’s pulse raced, and he turned rapidly, pulling Will against him, mouth locked on his in a deep kiss. He felt Will’s nipples scrape against the wool of his jacket, and he held him tight against his body, thrusting his hips into the younger man’s.

It’s been like this for days. They’ve barely said a word to each other, not since the first time. Hannibal had lost his patience, sick of holding himself back, when what he wanted so badly was right in front of him, ready to be taken. A hand in Will’s wet curls, soothing his distress. Mouth close to his, close enough to taste his breath. It was ridiculous. He’d taken him not just for his own gratification, but for the both of them.

He hadn’t been able to detach Will from him since. He’d refused to leave the house. Every time he turned around, the man was there, eyes hungry, lips wet. Hannibal smiled a little to himself.

What could he say? He had that effect on people.

He pushed Will away, roughly, before stepping forward fluidly to bear him down on the couch. He covered his body in his, feeling Will grind against him. He loosened his tie, deftly unbuttoned his shirt. Will’s hands fumbled at his belt. Hannibal’s hands reached down to unbuckle Will’s jeans when he felt sweaty fingers seize his own.

‘No, no.’ Laughter was sewn through Will’s breathless voice. Warm eyes looked into his. ‘Let me. Let me, this time. I want to…’ Will’s voice wavered, his hands reaching out to cup his cheek. ‘I want to taste you. I want to feel you.’

Hannibal said nothing, only smiling, sitting up on the couch, watching as Will’s eyes ran hungrily over his body. His hands smoothed down his bare chest, and he leaned his head back, trying to think of the right word to describe the sensation of Will's skin on his own. Exquisite. Sublime, maybe.

Will knelt between the psychiatrist’s knees. Hannibal reached a hand out to play with his curls, holding him firm. He felt, rather than saw, Will’s wet mouth wrap around his cock, his hands part his thighs. Will was eager, skilled, and Hannibal appreciated his craft. He let his hips thrust, forcing himself further into his throat. Will’s head bobbed, tightening around the head of his cock. Hannibal moaned.

Will pulled back. ‘You like that?’ he rasped, before licking a long line up Hannibal’s shaft. Hannibal chuckled, flushed.

‘You have a gift.’ Hannibal’s lips parted as Will ran his tongue further down, parting his cheeks with his hands. He felt the warmth of his mouth relax him, enter him, and instinctively he grabbed his cock, stroking gently.

‘I want to know that you want me.’ Will murmured against him, before plunging the tip of his tongue inside his entrance.

What was it they used to call the  _vryiske_..no…the male…prostitutes….years ago? He couldn’t remember. Sweet names.  _Sirdele_. What was that, in this  _susikti_  language? He inhaled sharply through his nose.

‘My darling, yes.’

Will’s fingers suddenly invaded him, pushing, not gentle. Hannibal’s lips parted, his eyelids fluttered closed. He released his grip on Will’s head. Berniukas buvo protingi, he thought to himself.  _The boy was clever._   

He moved closer to the edge of the couch, arms spread wide, breathing fast. It had been so long. Decades, since he’d felt the supple strength of a man’s fingers inside him, broad shoulders between his thighs. Memories invaded. Buying drinks for the fey of the poorer boroughs, pinning slick thighs against stone walls in a haze of cigarette smoke and  _starka_.

 ‘ _Dieva…’_  

Will stopped. Hannibal pressed his lips together. A soft chuckle floated up from between his legs. Before Hannibal could respond, Will’s hand wrapped around his cock, his mouth plunging down, swallowing him whole. Fingers thrust into him, massaging in long strokes. Hannibal moaned deeply, his body limp, intense pleasure, nostalgia, making him weak. Bending muscled  _gimnastas_  over the foot of his bed, gripping stubbled chins in alleyways. He was young, must have had every  _kekse_  in that town…. 

Will stopped, his fingers a constant but still pressure inside him. The man between his legs pulled back his head, sucking as he released him. Brown, devoted eyes looked into his.  

‘Are you enjoying this, Doctor Lecter?’ he asked, teasingly.  Hannibal moved his hand to push Will’s mouth back down, cock throbbing, fierce in his pleasure. Will batted his hand away, laughing softly.  

‘Now. Don’t be rude. Ask nicely.’ Will moved his fingers in and out slowly, looking deep into his eyes.  Hannibal reached out to hold his chin in his hand, a faint smile on his face, chest heaving, on the edge of pleasure, barely able to stop himself from forcing Will, from grabbing his precious empath’s hand and fucking it himself. Will increased his pace, and Hannibal tightened around him.

 ‘ _Prasom_ ….’ He breathed, softly.  _Ne_ , that wasn’t right…. Will licked the head of his cock with the tip of his tongue. 

‘ _Pyktis…’_  

‘I beg your pardon?’

Hannibal gritted his teeth in frustration.  _Idiotas_. Idiot. He gathered his concentration. 

‘Please.’ The word was firm, not a plea. Will wasted no time. One hand gripped the base of his cock, warm mouth engulfing him, stroking, almost feeding Hannibal into his mouth. His hand stretched him, the pressure almost unbearable, making him tighten, pulse.  ‘ _Grazas berniukas_ ….’ He murmured, no longer having the inclination to translate, to care who heard him.

‘ _Jūs šūdas kaip angelas, Jūs mažai kekše_ …’  He grabbed Will’s head, holding him roughly by the curls, as he came, breathing vocally, torso lifting, pulsing around his fingers. ‘ _Jezus, pyktis_ …’ He moaned, falling back onto the couch, his head limp. He groaned. Will brutally shoved his fingers against his prostate one final time.

 ‘ _Sudas_ …’ 

Incredible. Will climbed on top of him, straddling him, bending to kiss his mouth, his neck. Hannibal panted, wet with sweat, legs still splayed. 

‘I beg your pardon?’ Will murmured against his ear.

Hannibal let him soothe his hot skin with his tongue, chuckling. 

' _Grazus.'_ Your turn.'


End file.
